Hourglass
by wyldcat
Summary: He heard his scream from across the universe. And he came running. Like always. Tenth Doctor, postLotTL Master. Warning: character death.


Disclaimer: Don't own. As usual.

A/N: 20th fic posted on this site! Yay! Thanks to Petty Insanity for all the suggestions!

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**Hourglass**

He heard his scream from across the universe.

And he came running. Like always.

He finds him in a half-demolished, decrepit factory, amidst other dead bodies that litter the room and the rest of the planet. He regards the contraption in the middle of it all, looking suspiciously like some sort of psychic control and puts the pieces together. Then he moves closer, hovering over his cold body, sympathising with what he had to suffer but otherwise unsure of what to do, what to think.

He looks the same. Of course, he's aged, he's paler and he's so much thinner with starvation and abuse, but he's still the same. He's _always_ been the same. Sacrificing himself to save whatever caught his fancy no matter what. It was pathetic.

Unexpectedly, his eyes flutter open. "Master…" he whispers.

He stands over him, wanting to kneel by his side but that wouldn't be him. He's not compassionate. Instead he asks teasingly, "What happened to you?" all the while ignoring that horrible _wrongness_ he can feel. When he doesn't reply he nudges him lightly in the side and the Doctor sucks in a sudden, too-sharp breath, starting to roll away when his gasp turns into a strangled cry. A moment later he's flat on his back again, coughing up blood weakly while the Master watches him with concealed worry.

"You figure it out," the Doctor finally manages to answer.

"I have." He paces back and forth for a minute, then comes to a stop in front of him again. "You're dying," he says at last, in an almost accusing way.

"I am," the Doctor replies softly.

He waits a moment longer, then snaps, "Just regenerate already!"

The Doctor laughs, but it comes out as more of a wheezing gasp. "Can't."

The Master freezes. "What?"

"They took it away. Then they got in here…my mind."

"Hurt like hell, didn't it?"

He shuts his eyes, remembering. "Then…the explosion, the radiation… I couldn't help it. I couldn't control it. Everyone's…" A tear escapes him and agony ripples through him like a wave.

"Dead. I know. I saw." Only the Doctor could find it in himself to feel remorse even after everything they did to him. Typical. "Fitting, though, isn't it?" he continues, hurriedly returning the conversation to normal ground. "Genocide, even to the last."

The Doctor doesn't react, doesn't respond; just lies there utterly still and in a moment of blind panic the Master thinks he's just lost him. But then he begins to lift his arms, only managing a few excruciating, trembling inches before they fall back again. "Can you…"

"Can I what?"

He breathes shallowly. "Outside." He attempts to move again and the Master, much as he doesn't like it, takes the hint and scoops him into his arms like he would a child. He feels so brittle, lapsing in and out of consciousness, the inevitable movement jarring his numerous fractures as he threads his way awkwardly through the debris. His head rolls limply against his shoulder, blood-flecked lips parted in a silent scream and the Master can feel the slow, faint pulse of one heart through his shattered ribs.

Then they're outside, the snow quietly beginning to dust their clothes and hair. In his arms the Doctor looks almost angelic, frozen in a never-waking trance. It hits him how close his colour is to the snow and reflexively he holds him tighter, suddenly not wanting to let him go. In response the Doctor opens his eyes with difficulty, and quietly he observes, "The sky looks like Earth's."

The Master wants to roll his eyes but he can't. "You're lucky you can even see it, with the snow."

He stumbles on the TARDIS purely by accident – he can barely hear her in his mind anymore. He lets the Doctor brush his nerveless fingers over the wood for the last time before settling on a nearby, white-speckled rock like so many others that litter the area. He doesn't let go of the Doctor. He doesn't take his eyes off him, not even for a sliver of a second. He's afraid to.

His breathing is slowing down, steadily and surely. He places a light hand over his working heart and counts the beats. The Doctor looks up at him, smiling a little. "I'm sorry."

His eyes close and his heart beats its last.

"Come back," the Master suddenly growls. He gives him a vicious shake. "Come back. Now!"

It suddenly strikes him how similar this situation is to that one time, long ago.

And now he knows what it feels like to be alone.

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